


19 July

by mmmuse



Series: Six Months:  Journey to Love [4]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shift from master and servant to man and wife present challenges for Ross and Demelza Poldark during their first six months of marriage. Inspired by scenes from Poldark 2015, episode 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	19 July

**Author's Note:**

> This piece follows my previous works and may reference a bit or a bob from them (from time to time) but I think this series could be a standalone. That said, if you'd like to see what has come before, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse) for my works. If there IS a piece to read before this, read [One Night.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/321026)
> 
> I've been a writing fiend these past few days, so I hope to have part 5 finished and in beta by the end of the weekend. Speaking of betas, I've mentioned my deep and abiding appreciation of my dear friend [Sherylyn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherylyn/pseuds/Sherylyn/works) before. She's helped me with every piece of Poldark fan fiction I've posted here, despite not knowing a thing about the material and I'll be forever grateful for her time and energies. :-) Well, I've been blessed to have a new beta join me on this journey. She's a massive fan of the show and HimselfShe's done an incredible job of catching those little things that always sneak past me after the umpteeth time my eyes have seen it, challenging me on things that aren't clear and cheering me on when I've managed to get things just right. So thank you very much, @JackieCHonda! So very glad to have gotten to know you and look forward to more adventures with Romelza!
> 
> Please feel free to leave me kudos or comments to let me know what you think! Finally, many thanks to Winston Graham, the folks at Mammoth and the actors for their inspirational work. I am grateful to have such a delightful playground in which to romp!

Demelza dabbed tears from her eyes with the collar of her dress. The spicy onions she’d picked from the garden were presently falling victim to her knife in preparation for a lovely lamb pie she had planned for Ross’s dinner. He had spent the last two nights in Truro for business and was not expected home for several hours yet. This was the first time they’d spent apart since their wedding three weeks earlier. She’d found sleeping in the master bedchamber without him to be quite unnerving, missing his solid warmth next to her. She’d been tempted to sneak her pup, Garrick, up to the room with her, but had seen him sitting in the yard, worrying after something she feared might be the crawlers Ross always warned her about.

 _Time for a bath, Garrick_ , she thought to herself, glancing at the dog lying on the mat near the door. As if he’d heard her, he whined before scuttling out into the garden, his tail tucked between his legs.

Demelza shook her head and went back to her task when the side door opened. Ross came in and set down his saddlebag. She felt a stir in her chest and throat, just at the sight of him, surprised to see him so soon, but nonetheless thrilled with his early arrival. His hair was mussed from his travels and he had packages in his hand. _Had the meeting gone well?_ She wondered to herself. _Was there bad news to come?_

 _Did you miss me?_ This last thought brought heat to her face, wondering just what he would say if she ever gathered the nerve enough to ask him. His face was unreadable as he closed the door, turned and looked in her direction. She figured she would do what he had often done; keep things business-like. She kept her eyes on her task, willing her body not to do anything that might make him detect the joy she was experiencing, just from him being home once again.

“You got the candles and twine?” she asked conversationally, flicking a glance in his direction. “And the muslin for the cheese?”

He leaned forward and placed the packages on the table to the right of the onions. “Open it,” he said, plainly. He continued over to the sideboard to pour some ale from the pitcher into a small pewter cup.

Demelza picked up the first of the packages from the top of the pile. She pulled open the string holding the package closed and peeled back the paper. The muslin and twine, as she had requested. The second package, hard and rectangular, had a feather quill tied up in the string. The paper fell open and she was at a loss for words.

“A book for you to practice your letters,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “And ribbons to tie up that unruly mane.” She looked up at him. He leaned against the sideboard, so lean and handsome in his charcoal grey suit and grey waistcoat, despite the travel dust. The half smile on his lips and lightness in his eyes told her he was pleased with his surprise for her and she smiled shyly in response. She returned her gaze to the items in her hand. It was a pretty little book, with a fabric cover and several lengths of ribbon. Each item was a riot of colours, bursting with flowers. “I know little of these things.” His voice was back to being inscrutable. “If they don’t suit, give them to Prudie.”

She stared at the book and ribbons, allowing herself a moment to bask: these were the first gifts given to her by her husband. She smiled tremulously, sighing with delight. Gifts! She wondered if he’d chosen them because they reminded him of the flowers she’d filled their home with. It was a fantasy to even think it, but she allowed herself to, for a moment.

“Did I mention I wrote to your father?”

Ross’s voice brought her from her reverie and it took her a second to comprehend what he’d said. “Oh Ross, you never,” she said, feeling the smile that had formed on her face evaporate. Not her father! She set the gifts down on the table, but made certain to move them far away from the onions. “He’ll be that vexed, thinking I’ll _never_ come home.”

“I told him your duty lay here,” he said firmly, taking another sip from his cup.

“Mmm-hmm, well, so it do, Ross,” she said softly, wiping her hands on the top of the apron around her waist before looking back up at his face. “Nothing’s changed.”

He paused, the look of shocked surprise crossing his face. “ _Nothing?_ ” he said incredulously.

She tilted her head and considered, her brows twitching. “I _do_ get less sleep,” she murmured with a smile. _Less sleep..._ She thought to herself? _That’s putting it mildly._

He arched his own brows over eyes gone stormy grey. “And that’s your _only_ complaint?”

She smiled warmly at him, all attempts at coyness abandoned. “I have no complaints.”

He smiled before glancing aside. “I do, however.”

She went cold. _I’ll do whatever you want, just to make you happy, my dearest, dearest Ross._ “Tell me,” she said in a near whisper, her heart in her throat.

“You have yet to make an official visit to the mine,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, and she thought she detected a challenge lighting their hazel-green irises.

 _Judas!_ She stomped a foot under the kitchen table and frowned. “Oh no, Ross, I couldn’t!” she said with a scowl. “How would it look?”

“Look?” he asked, incredulously.

“…A _kitchen maid_!” she spluttered, “giving herself… _airs_ —”

“—I see no kitchen maid!” he interrupted, his eyes fierce. “I see a _wife_ , whose duty it is to take an interest in her husband’s work—”

“—I DO take an interest!” she demanded, feeling a little hurt that he would think she cared not for what he did.

“Excellent!” he crooned, the battle won. “First thing tomorrow, then.”

She glared up at him, the lord of the manor, smug in his victory, and knew she had to concede defeat. He was a crafty man, she’d give him that. Then her eyes caught one of the twists of ribbon and she smiled once again. He finished his ale and set the cup down, leaning back against the sideboard on both hands. The posture made her appreciate the length of his neck, the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, his long, lean abdomen, the narrowness of his hips and the strength of his thighs. She could picture herself, walking over to him and undressing him, revealing each part of him, as she’d done with the gifts he’d given her.

No, the book and the ribbons were not the first gift he’d given her. That had been himself, that dark May night so many weeks ago, when he’d made love to her for the first time. Her body throbbed with remembrance.

She felt herself stand from her chair, as if willed by him to do so. She walked to the ewer, pouring out some water to wash her hands, drying them on her apron as she walked over to where he stood. She placed the palms of her hands against that broad chest before running them down and around his waist. She leaned into him, her body following the curve of his own and felt his response instantly against her lower belly and mound. “Thank you for the gifts, Ross,” she murmured, rising on tip toe to press her lips against his.

He huffed out a breath before his hands rose up to cup her face and deepen their kiss. Demelza shuddered against him, sliding her hands up his back to clutch at his shoulders. He groaned into her mouth, moving his hands to her shoulders before sliding his lips across her cheek to taste the side of her neck. Her toes curled as she felt the edge of his strong, white teeth on the skin between her neck and shoulders.

“I missed you, Ross,” she breathed, unable to keep the words within her any longer.

“Demelza,” he murmured against her skin, “I missed you as well. Very much.” He pressed his hips against hers to emphasize his point. “Missed the feel of you in my arms in the morning.” He raised his head and pressed his face into her hair. “The smell of flowers in your hair.” He brushed her lips with his, taking her bottom lip between his teeth before soothing the bite with his tongue.

He glanced at the table where she had been seated, covered with the ingredients for their supper. She knew what he was thinking. She leaned up to press her lips to his ear. “This table is occupied,” she whispered, “but the one in the kitchen is available.”

He pulled back to look into her eyes, shock and desire swimming in his green-black gaze. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the parlour and into the kitchen. She laughed as she skipped behind him, trembling in anticipation of what was to come.

The table was uncluttered, save the flower arrangement sitting in its earthenware crock dead square in the middle of it. She grabbed his hand, which was within seconds of sending the poor thing to the ground, and scooped it up. “Ross! I just picked these!” She set them on the cupboard near the window.

“They are very nice,” he said hurriedly, glancing around the room. “Where are Jud and Prudie?”

 “Prudie is in the orchard gathering the last of the cherries,” she said, her voice throaty and slightly breathless. “Jud is in town to pick up the items we needed for the horses.” He blinked at her once before turning on the spot to drag the kitchen bench over to wedge it against the door. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing once again, she was so happy.

He grabbed her and kissed her once again, his hands greedy, squeezing and clasping her waist, her breasts, and her buttocks. Her own had slid around his neck, her fingers running through the thick, black strands of his hair. They kissed as if they hadn’t see one another in years, and blazing, liquid heat welled between her thighs.

He reached for the hooks of her gown. She stilled his hands, bringing them to her lips for her to kiss. She thought of the pretty little book and ribbons he’d given her…and wanted to give him a small homecoming gift of his own. He stared at her, his passion-filled eyes dark with need. She pressed him back against the table’s edge where he sat, unmoving.

Demelza had felt as if she’d been granted access to a secret world since becoming intimate with Ross. She thought back to their first night together nearly six weeks before: how hesitant she’d been to touch him at first; how each new caress had left her feeling scared of its newness yet eager to explore more. He’d given her permission to do just that on their wedding night. “No shame between us,” he had said to her, and he’d encouraged her explorations of his body and her desires with abandon. She’d grown more confident in her own sexuality and more comfortable with her own body in the process, knowing what she could do to make his need for her double, triple from where it had started, and she’d come to respect that power.

She smiled to herself, then at her husband, still seated on the table in front of her. His breathing had quickened, and a thin sheen of sweat beaded his upper lip. She bit her bottom lip – something she knew would get a rise out of him, and it did. She took a step back and raised her hands to the hooks of her gown, slowly releasing them, her eyes never leaving his. Once finished, her fingertips pulled the hem of the dress up and up, over her petticoats, to her waist until she was able to pull it over her head. She looked at Ross, who sat as still as a statue, with the exception of the pulse at his neck which beat frantically as she untied the petticoat and stood in nothing but her shift, garters and stays. She reached around her back to untie the laces at her back, wriggling to free herself from the garment.

“Let me,” he gasped, reaching for her. She shook her head slowly, stepping just out of his reach. A moment later the stays rested limp on the floor, soon followed by her thin shift. She raised her eyes to her husband. His eyes gleamed, dark with desire. His lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly from his laboured breathing. She looked down at his hips, his breeches tight across his loins, the heavy ridge of his erection clearly outlined against the dark grey material. His hands were clenched on the edge of the table, much as they had been the night after they’d wed when she’d taken him into her mouth after his bath. She walked over to him and kissed him, her tongue seeking his to sample and linger. His hands closed on her hips to draw her to stand in between his legs. They devoured one another, breath whistling through nostrils pressed deeply against cheeks, muffled sighs and moans shuddering deep in their throats.

She’d wanted to strip him of his clothes but found herself too far gone to think about it. She slipped her fingers down between their bodies to the drop front of his breeches, releasing the buttons and his erection into her hands. He lifted his mouth from hers, an inarticulate cry coming from deep within his chest. His flesh was scorching hot, molten velvet against her fingers. Her hand slipped down to cup and caress the heavy globes beneath, her thumb running along the tiny ridges, feeling them contract and shift within her palm. She glanced up to see he’d thrown his head back, his mouth slack and open as he panted. He thrust his hips against her hand, the friction and movements stirring her own hips into motion. He lowered his head to capture her lips with his own, their mouths trembling with need.

She broke away from his kiss and looked down at his erection. The broad tip was wet with his seed. She brushed her thumb against it then raised it to her lips, to taste his desire, watching his lids slide over eyes nearly black with lust. She pressed the palm of one hand against his chest, pushing him to lie flat against the table top and climbed atop his lap, guiding his sex into hers with the other.

She came instantly. Her sex gripped his as she slid down, pressed tight against him, the friction overwhelming in its bliss.

“Jesus, Jesus, Demelza,” he gasped, his hips thrusting into hers as she began to ride him, the waves of her orgasm receding and reforming with each stroke. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers bruising her flesh. She leaned forward, to bring her breasts within reach of his mouth. He sat up, shifting them further up along the table top, his mouth latching onto one of her nipples with his teeth, nipping at her, suckling madly. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding his head as it worked, frantically, against the firmness of her breast, languidly rising and falling onto his erection until the need grew too great.

He released her nipple, pressing his forehead against the crest of her breast. “Please.” It was a gasp against her skin. Fingers tangled in his hair, she pulled his head back and away from her, her eyes meeting his. His face was a study of desperation. “Please, Demelza…please…” He lay back onto the table, bracing his feet to grant him purchase. Her hands braced themselves on his chest, and she rode him, hips twisting while he thrust wildly up into her body.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Her climax shattered her, her voice hoarse from her cries as she felt him tremble underneath her, his hands stilling her hips over him, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips and buttocks as he came, pulsing heavily within her.

A log on the hearth popped. Demelza opened her eyes to find herself blanketing her husband’s body with her own. She sat up tentatively, feeling the strain the position she’d chosen for their lovemaking had placed on the inside of her thighs. Ross shifted, easing his feet back towards the floor. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, brushing her sensitive nipples. Her centre shivered against his softening length in response. He opened his eyes, blinking several times before they appeared to regain their focus. Demelza blushed when his eyes found hers.

He chuckled. “It’s a little late to be shy now, my girl,” he said, before slowly sitting up, his arms wrapped around her back. “That was one hell of a homecoming.” He leaned up and kissed her, tenderly before leaning back to brush her hair from her cheek. “Remind me to go away more often!”

Demelza felt her cheeks redden even more. “Ross!”

They got to their feet and put themselves to rights once again; albeit a bit clumsily and more self-consciously than either would have expected, given the ardour they’d shared moments before. She was reaching back to try to tidy her hair when she felt him turn her around, his hands on her waist. “It was a lovely homecoming, Demelza,” he said softly. He brushed a kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, Ross.”

He moved the bench back into place, the scraping of its legs against the floor excessively loud to her ears, and he swung open the door just as Prudie came in from the yard. The trio was silent for several seconds. “Welcome home, Mister Ross, sir!” Prudie said, dropping a curtsey and a knowing look towards the couple.

_Judas!_

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr at mmmuses or on twitter @mmmusings! I'm still getting the hang of THAT one. :-)


End file.
